


The Second Son

by Shared_Shield



Category: Bridgerton (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anthony being repressed what else is new, Brothers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s01e04 An Affair of Honor, Gen, Hugging, I don't have brothers I don't how they act around each other, Panic Attacks, also no brain cells, and a bit from Colin's, but from Benedict's POV, duel, no tree knowledge was involved in this, the boys actually talk in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:28:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29980806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shared_Shield/pseuds/Shared_Shield
Summary: Anthony decides he has to duel with Simon to defend Daphne's honor and calls on Benedict to stand as his second and, as far as Anthony is concerned, to take over title and family should Anthony get himself killed or the chance to escape with Siena. Benedict, who just found his calling, is very much not happy with that but diligently does his duty no matter how much it kills him on the inside.ORMen being idiots with guns.
Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton & Benedict Bridgerton, Anthony Bridgerton/Siena Rosso (mentioned), Benedict Bridgerton & Colin Bridgerton
Kudos: 14





	The Second Son

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so basically, this the duel and the scenes leading up to it from Benedict's point of view who does not want to become Viscount, obviously, thank you very much. There's some brotherly love in this, although I don't know how realistic that is, since I'm a girl with a sister, and there's talk about feelings too, but that's probably really outside of realm of possibility. Anyway, I just love them being bros and I hope we get to see more of that.
> 
> Some parting thoughts: I am reading the books, but I have skipped The Duke and I, therefore the written version of this scene, so this is based on the show only.   
> I tagged panic attacks. There's nothing too graphic, it's two sentences, but this is a no good, very bad night for Benedict, so if that's not the thing for you, maybe skip this story.
> 
> Anyhow, I hope you have fun reading!

Furious hisses filled Benedict’s ears as soon as he entered the house through the front door. Daphne and Anthony were fighting with each other.

Another ball that did not went, well, optimal then. Benedict had thought the Duke would be able to withstand the Viscount’s withering looks and biting remarks, well knowing that the oldest Bridgerton was more bark than bite from their days at Oxford.

But Benedict did not worry about his fighting siblings. It had become not exactly a normality, no, but a not as rare circumstance when Daphne had gotten closer to her debut to society, nearly of age and also capable for standing up for herself, and Anthony, desperately trying to fill their father’s shoes and provide a good match for his sister, had become quite exhausting in his bearings and worries. It would all sort itself, Benedict was sure of that. Daphne was an extraordinary young woman and Anthony would soon come to see that not even he was in the position to force her into an unwanted marriage. 

Or maybe Benedict just was in such good spirits because of his very pleasant evening.

And pleasant the evening certainly had been, Benedict could not remember another outing where he had so thoroughly enjoyed himself. Away from the stilted conversations, the etiquette and the stifling tightness of cravats and corsets and instead with like-minded spirits who did not care for class, money or sex he had felt like he could truly be himself for what might have been the very first time.

Sure, the product of the evening was far less than perfect or even acceptable, but at Mr. Granville’s insistence Benedict decided to value this evening for the time well spent. And for a glimpse into what his future might become.

With their father gone so suddenly and Anthony being forced to step up and attend to his duty, Benedict had found himself at a loss how to spend his time. Over had been the days of traveling high society together with his brother; the excursions and play fights had become less and less as well with Colin still attending school.

Neither the military nor the church, institutions a lot of second sons found themselves in sooner or later, were much of his tastes, too strict and unyielding in the orders how he should live his life. During the first months after their father’s death Benedict had found himself not wanting to stray far. He had helped Anthony to adjust to his new role, ensured his mother had always a steaming cup of tea beside her, wrote letters to Colin to calm his brother’s worries and held his sisters and Gregory when they cried, and Anthony had locked himself away in his new study.

But even the heavy veil of grief had lifted itself off Bridgerton House eventually and they all found their new routines. Well, everyone but Benedict, who drifted aimlessly from room to room more often than not.

But this, dedicating his life to the arts, to a circle of people who did not care about being proper and instead about only _being_ , truly and unapologetically; this was a world he could see a future in.

“Oh, this is madness!”

Daphne’s cry ripped Benedict out of his musings. His siblings were standing at bottom of the grand stairway, heads first together then apart when Daphne stepped back. His steps had announced Benedict’s presence and both his siblings’ gazes, darkened by the rolling thunder of rage, flew to him.

“What is it?”

Anthony advanced, taking long, angry strides towards Benedict, gripping his arm and pulling his younger brother with him.

“You and I need to talk. Daphne, bed.”

Anthony just short of threw Benedict into the hallway leading to their father’s private office and slammed the door in Daphne’s face. Benedict could hear her growl before Anthony pushed him forward into   
the office and immediately strode to the big shelf to pull out a flat, wooden box.

His father’s duelling pistols.

Benedict felt his chest tighten. Surly, nothing as bad had happened that would force Anthony to violently defend their sister’s honour? Both the Prince and the Duke were honourable men, mostly, no matter what Anthony felt in his rage, and Daphne was more than able of sound judgment. She seemed fine just seconds earlier if not angry but her oldest brother’s presence alone was enough to set off a bad mood these days.

“I will need you to stand has my second.”

A duel. Benedict was right in his worries. Dread formed a tight, heavy ball in his stomach. Even if his brother should come out as victor, he might as well be persecuted for conducting an illegal duel in the first place. What would mean…

“What if you get yourself killed?”

He could not stand the thought alone. His family had suffered so much already, the loss of another patriarch well before his time would be their ruin.

“Then the titles and estates will pass to you”, Anthony levelled him with his gaze.

This was not what they had agreed upon, this was not how things were supposed to play out. Benedict was not in any way a man deserving of the title of Viscount, nor was he able to head this family in an ample manner. Of course, their father had organized that both Anthony and Benedict would be taught the rules and intricacies of managing land and people, to juggle numbers and names and reputations but that did not mean Benedict was truly capable of it.

But that would only be the case if Anthony lost against who had to be Hastings.

“And if you kill Hastings?”

“Then I shall have to leave the country and you’ll be head of the family in every way that matters.”

Benedict stared at his brother, not comprehending, not willing to comprehend what his grave remark could mean, but the finality in Anthony’s dark eyes, wild with rage and anticipation, forced him to face the prospect of what he had never allowed himself to ponder about, not even in his darkest hours. His brother being ripped from their lives just like their father had been.

Laughter tore through the silence between them.

After sharing another look, they quietly made their way back to the entrance hall where, through a gap in the door, they could see their brother escorting their obviously inebriated mother to the staircase. 

“Of course. You are clearly sober.” Colin had their mother’s arm securely tucked under his.

Their unrestrained laughter lightened the lead ball in Benedict’s stomach a bit. Maybe Anthony would change his mind upon seeing his family? Upon remembering how destroyed, yet not willing to let it be known to her children, their mother had been? He could not feel enough rage to put her through such an ordeal again, could he?

Violet Bridgerton climbed the first stairs with utmost care, wiping away tears of laughter from her cheeks before turning back to her son.

“And I’m sober enough to know when you’re being impertinent”, she softly patted Colin’s cheek, then let her hand rest on his shoulder. “Good night, dear.”

“Good night, mother.”

He smiled at her as she climbed the steps and finally turned to his brothers, who he surely noticed lurking in the doorway.

“Come here”, Anthony ordered with a sharp jerk of his head.

Colin sighed, clearly exasperated at his brother’s antics.

“Good God. Did someone die?”

“A duel. A duel! Anthony, are you mad?”

Contrary to his older brother, Colin Bridgerton did not like to be presented with hare-brained plans and ideas, neither did he feel inclined to accept them without second thought.

“I will not have this discussion with you. Daphne’s and the reputation of this whole family is depending on the matter. Hastings stained her honour, and he refuses to marry her, I will not let this stand.”

Anthony was raging about the office, searching for books, collections of correspondence, anything important for the function of a Viscount and piled it onto the desk behind which, leaning against the wall while looking pale and unsure, Benedict stood.

“Benedict!”, Colin implored. He had to have something to say to the matter! After all, if Anthony truly duelled with the Duke that would be the end of his position as Viscount and Benedict would need to step up.

“He made his choice”, Benedict’s voice was only barely reaching Colin’s ears over the flying papers and thumping of books.

“You cannot be serious! Have you even thought about what effects this would have on our family? On our mother? Daphne?”

Anthony whirled around, panting, and pushed against Colin crowding him against the bookshelf at the other side of the room.

“Anthony-“, Benedict took a fearful step towards them but a sharp wave from his brother brought him to a stop.

“I am doing this for the welfare of this family. You have not seen, brother, how he had his way with Daphne, how he took advantage of her, only to look her in the eye and say that he could not marry her. And I failed her. If this came to be known, it would be the end of us. None of the girls, not even Hyacinth, would be able to find suitable husbands. We would be outcasts.”

He let off Colin and straightened out his waistcoat.

“It is done. I will meet Hastings by the two chestnut trees at six, Benedict will be my second. You will stay here and take care that Daphne stays in her room, do you understand?”, Anthony ensured Colin’s compliance with nothing more than a stern look and turned to collect the last of the necessary papers for Benedict to look over when a strong grip caught his wrist.

“Anthony, father would not want you-“

“You are in no place to speak of what father would want!”, Anthony’s voice boomed in the small study. Never before had he raised his voice like this with Colin. “I am his heir in title and rank, I am the head of this family, and as long as I still walk this earth you are to do as I say!”

Colin shrank back against the bookshelf and kept his eyes on the ground. He had never seen his brother this enraged.

“Go upstairs and watch your sister’s door, now.”

When Colin heard someone leaving the house around midnight, he suspected Anthony. To do what Colin was not sure, but he also could not bring himself to care too much. He was still angry with his brother, although Anthony’s explosion had led him to comply to his orders. Colin did not like or merely understand his brother’s decision, his stupid pride and obsession with Daphne’s honour and her match. He did not want to excuse the, what must have been despicable, behaviour of the Duke of Hastings, but was it truly necessary to risk death over it?

Colin might not have been there, nevertheless he knew Daphne tried her hardest to convince their brother to choose a different way to resolve his dispute with Hastings. 

But he was not only angry at Anthony; Benedict had also chosen to act careless in this matter in just letting the eldest Bridgerton go on about his plan. How could he? Normally, Benedict would not hold back with his opinion if he thought Anthony was acting a fool even if he would hide it in a barb or a crude comment.

Colin had not heard a single noise from what his brother might be, so he took matters in his own hands and looked for Benedict, only to promptly find him in his room. He had his head propped up in his head and stared numbly into the space in front of him.

“How could you?”, Colin groused, although mindful of the sleeping family in the rooms around. “How can you let him do this?!”

Benedict sighed.

“What did you want me to do? You know just as well as I do that nothing can change our brother’s mind once it is made up.”

“So, you’re just going let him die? Or kill a man and leave the country, leave us?”

“I’m not letting him die _alone_!”, for the first time this evening there was something else in Benedict’s voice than tired desperation. “I’m not letting him leave without knowing how to care for our family. I must stand as his second to ensure all his affairs are taken care of. This is what seconds do, as you soon will come to know!”

Benedict was right. There were a lot of things that Colin did not know. 

Being quite a bit younger than Anthony and Benedict and the youngest boy until Gregory had come along much later had provided him with a lot of protection. And even after Father had died, there still had been Anthony and Benedict sheltering him.

He did not know what it meant to be a second.

Colin sat down across Benedict, suddenly very tired. His brother looked the feeling, with mussed hair and pale skin he suddenly seemed like he could be the eldest Bridgerton son.

“There’s surely nothing we can do about this?”, the younger asked.

“I don’t know”, Benedict shrugged, “I don’t exactly know what happened, he wouldn’t tell me. I’m not sure if Hasting’s anger is severe enough for him to take a shot at Anthony, but I know our brother’s is.”

“And even if he was to merely wound the Duke, he’d have to leave. This coming out would mean punishment. Maybe the Queen would even have him deprived of his title. Surely, she would”, Colin thought aloud.

“I hate this!”, Benedict suddenly hissed. He jumped from his chair and swiped over the table beside him. The leatherbound book on it fell to the ground with loud clap.

“Benedict!”

Colin anxiously waited for the sound of a door opening or the inquiring call of one of his family members, but other than Benedict’s angry mumbling, the house stayed blessedly quiet.

“He’s so arrogant and stuck in his own head trying to be the son Father would be proud of. He doesn’t even see how badly he’s cocking up this whole affair!”, Benedict stalked up and down the width of his room. “And he thinks he’s all alone in all this and that he has to pose the strong patriarch, he never even reaches the idea of how Father would be proud of him no matter! Or lets somebody else help.”

He heaved out a shuddering breath and pressed his knuckles to his eyes.

Colin stared at his older brother, baffled. 

Of course, he knew how heavy their father’s death still weighed on Anthony, even if Anthony himself did not see or acknowledge it in that way, but he had never heard one of his brothers talk about the matter. Anthony carefully kept those feelings away from the rest of the family and was unwilling to talk about it, but Colin had thought that the two eldest Bridgertons had communicated, in some way at least, about this.

But Benedict’s words proved differently.

Benedict, who obviously was dealing with jumbled thoughts of his own, had not moved from his position at the window front, still covering his eyes, still gasping for down air like a drowning man.

“Benedict...”

Colin wrapped his hands around his brother’s wrist and gently pulled them away from his face. He was not met with any resistance and soon Colin could see the absolute despair in Benedict’s eyes.

“I don’t know what to do. Colin, I- I cannot -“

His brother drew in a shuddering breath and Colin did something he had not done in years. He pulled his brother against him and circled his arms around, squeezing softly.

“It’ll be alright.”

But he could not truly believe his own words. If Benedict, ever steadfast, calm and collected Benedict, the eternal mediator in any squabbles between his siblings, if he was so desperate that he was shaking apart in Colin’s arms, then how could this possibly have a happy outcome for them?

“Maybe we should rest? A few hours, at least.” Colin peered at the clock on mantelpiece above the fireplace that showed close to one in the morning. 

“No, I should- I need to-“, Benedict freed himself out of Colin’s embrace and looked searching around the room.

“Did he tell you what to do after?”

“Yes, the solicitor, the dowries, mother-”, Benedict’s voice gave out at the thought of their mother. Violet Bridgerton would be destroyed by the news that her eldest had died or left them.

“Then there’s nothing we can do right now. Benedict, come on, just a few hours. You’ll feel better.”

Colin was not sure that his words would prove true. He wanted to stop time and not fasten it, but he could not, and Benedict would need all his wits come 6 o’clock. He moved Benedict towards the bed, he was soft and pliant under his hands and while Colin helped his brother to remove his coat, he allowed himself to be scared.

Benedict was his rock, even more so than Anthony who distanced himself first in his grief then with his work. Colin knew that his eldest brother had tried and was trying his best, but he also had five other siblings who had been more in need of a father figure than Colin himself. So, he had started to turn to Benedict in his worries and was rewarded with open arms and a steady shoulder to lean on. To see his brother unravel like this robbed Colin of all hope that this idiotic affair would have a good outcome.

Benedict did not sleep. 

After Colin left him tucked into his blankets Benedict continued to stare into the grey-blueish light spilling into his room through the opened curtains. He did not feel sick anymore but numb and heavy. Coming midday his brother would be only a memory on the halls of Bridgerton House. 

Benedict did not wish for the Duke’s death, far from it, but the alternative seemed so much more gruesome. If Anthony came out the victor, he would still be there, in a way. Benedict would be able to write to him, ask for guidance and soothing of his worries. But maybe, maybe!, the last hours had helped to calm both his brother’s and the Duke’s tempers somewhat so that they would maybe agree to a more peaceful solution or at least would let Benedict mediate.

He was not as naïve as to think this would actually be the case with his brother, but perhaps Hastings would be ready to amend his mistake differently. Even if he was not, Anthony would still get to live, not with them of course, but still somewhat in reach.

Benedict did not like himself very much that morning.

When the grand clock downstairs sounded four, he got up again, washed and shaved but dressed himself in yesterday’s coat. It still smelled faintly of cigarette smoke, oil paints and alcohol. The evening at Granville’s studio felt like it had happened a hundred years ago.

He met Colin in their brother’s study, bowed over the various notebooks Anthony and Benedict had gone over a few hours earlier, with a half-empty tumbler of brandy next to him.

“You don’t need to concern yourself with all that, Colin”, his voice sounded rough.

“I won’t leave you alone with it.” Colin’s tone did not leave room for any argument. When had his little brother become such a capable grown up? 

Colin’s words left a sting in Benedict’s chest. He _had_ left Anthony alone with all his duties and responsibilities, he had gone off to the parties and soirées, musicales and most debauched events while Anthony had been alone trying to manage the estate, numbers and the reputation of their family. 

Thinking about it, Benedict was convinced that it was punishment from the heavens above to have him step up to take on his brother’s duties now. After he managed to turn a blind eye towards all the duties the title of Viscount and patriarch of a family such as the Bridgertons entailed for years. 

“I, uh, I’ll go and ready the horses”, Benedict said eventually, “You’ll stay and make sure Daphne doesn’t follow us, yes?”

“Of course”, Colin stepped around the desk, the case with the pistols in his hands. 

Facing each other, Benedict found himself rendered silent. There were so many things he wanted to say, yet none of them left his tongue, either because he knew words like “It will be alright” were moot and simply a lie or because he simply couldn’t utter them. “I cannot do this” or “Please, Colin, you have to go.”

Instead, his gaze wandered to their father’s portrait over the mantel piece, Edmund Bridgerton in his regal attire but not meeting his gaze. It was not the first time that Benedict cursed his father for just leaving them, Anthony, alone with all those responsibilities, although it still left a sour taste on his tongue.

“Come back safe, Benedict”, Colin said laying one hand on Benedict’s shoulder and squeezing.

“I’ll do my best”, it was beyond him how he managed a crooked grin, but Colin’s grip had settled him somewhat and he drew the strength from it he needed for what probably would be the most terrible morning of his life.

Benedict was caressing the soft snout of his white mare before putting on the tack when the door to the stable was opened and Anthony stepped in.

He seemed a bit more settled than before, although his unruly hair bore witness to what he had done the past few hours. Or rather who.

“I have arranged for a doctor to meet us there”, he said bluntly and then took his horse’s saddle from where Benedict had placed on the gate.

Benedict hummed instead of answering. It was probably a sensible thing to do, but he couldn’t help but scoff at the idea that the only sense that had returned to Anthony had caused him to arrange for a doctor instead of finding a different, less violent way to settle the matter.

“You have the pistols? We have to go now in order to make it in time.”

He said it as if they were going to a party. Benedict bit back a nasty comment, picking an argument now would only result in his brother being furious again what only would fuel his irresponsibility.

London was eerily quiet and empty for a city that never seemed to calm otherwise. Although it was probably because they were still on the streets of Mayfair, where no one had to leave for work in the darkness of the early morning.

Benedict adjusted his grip on the case. His hands inside the gloves were growing sweaty and with every step further away from Bridgerton House the strength he had managed to gather vaned more. The ball of lead in his stomach was back and it tumbled around his intestines with every jostle going through his bones.

From time to time, Anthony turned back to look at Benedict but never changed the breakneck speed he had the horses running. For what he was checking Benedict was not sure. He would not leave his brother now.

They reached the place when it dawned. There was a stumpy figure of what presumably was the doctor standing between the two chestnut trees. He looked a bit dishevelled, especially his wig what made Benedict think he surely would have preferred to be in bed right now too.

“Doctor, I appreciate your attendance and discretion”, Anthony said when they walked towards him.

“You have my blunt?”, the man asked without any false pretence of courtesy. The kind of men engaging in duels obviously did not deserve any kind of decorum, especially not when there was bribery involved. 

Anthony handed over the money.

“Very well. Try not to go dying while I am present.”

He said it in such a nonchalant way, it sent a stab of pain through Benedict’s chest. He wouldn’t bear witness to a death today, he wouldn’t, no matter if it would be the Duke or his brother.

Benedict stopped the doctor before he could turn away.

“If the goal is merely to wound, where should my brother aim?”, he could barely get the shaking of his voice under control. This did not have to end in death. Even if Anthony did take the shot at Simon, they could make it look like an accident. The Duke of Hastings did shoot as a hobby, surely an accident while maybe showing some drunk comrades his weapons would not be that big a stretch?

The doctor scoffed at him.

“You think you have the skill to guide path of a moving bullet?”, he asked, “Then you are either a fool or the king’s finest marksman. Which is it?”

Benedict felt his heart sink. Anthony had never been a particularly good shot, so the doctor’s words seemed damning. Looking at his older brother, for the first time since he had pulled Benedict into the hallway, Anthony seemed to doubt his actions.

The neighing of two horses cut through the early morning calm before Benedict could say anything else to his brother. The Duke and Will Mondrich came galloping out of the trees and over the grass, already yellowed by the early summer heat.

Upon seeing his approaching opponents, who had already reached the two trees, Anthony chose to approach his younger brother.

“I have one last matter to discuss with you.”

Benedict’s heart sunk even further, surely it must have been somewhere around his knees by now. What else could there be, what other matter could Anthony possibly thrust into Benedict’s responsibility?

“You have already provided ample instruction”, Benedict began, unwilling to go over everything again and make the prospect of his brother leaving him more real, “I shall contact the solicitor and safeguard our sisters’ dowries-“

“An additional task”, Anthony stepped even closer, searching for his brother’s eyes where Benedict was keen on avoiding Anthony’s. Nevertheless, he went on:

“In the top drawer of my desk, you shall find the name of a lady. If I die, you must make sure she’s provided for. Do you swear?”

Benedict could not answer, the words and the neighs of the other horses, like harbingers of death, were ringing in his ears, the case with the pistols weighing a ton in his hands.

“Benedict, do-“

“I swear!” 

If there was nothing else, he was able to do for his brother, at least he could care for the ones ravaged by the Viscount’s death.

For a moment they looked at each other, truly looked at each other, and Benedict could see the calm determination to save their sister and family, the willingness to do the honourable thing, to do right by their father, whereas Anthony nearly drowned in the fear that had swallowed the mischievous sparkle that normally resided in Benedict’s eyes.

Then Anthony broke the connection and instead pulled out their father’s pocket watch and pressed it into Benedict’s hand, closing their fingers over it, resting his other hand on Benedict’s shoulder. It seemed to burn right through the sturdy leather of his gloves, leaving a mark in the flesh of his hand.

There was so much Benedict wanted to say, "Don’t do this" and "Please don’t leave us" being at the forefront of his mind, but his tongue felt like lead in his mouth, his lips were sticking together with something that almost tasted like blood.

“Brother-“, he eventually, finally got out, but Anthony just squeezed his shoulder and already turned away.

“That is all.”

It sounded as grave as the last bell chime at their father’s funeral.

Benedict didn’t feel like he really inhabited his own skin during what came next. He opened the case and held it out for Mondrich to inspect the weapons, but it was like he watched himself doing that.  
He could hear the Duke apologizing, words slightly slurred and posture slumped, but Benedict knew before Anthony even answered that his brother would not budge. When he gave Anthony the pistol, he felt like his brother’s executioner.

Standing a safe distance away with Mondrich, Benedict was not able to see more than the figure of his brother walking away, steps carefully measured, head high and shoulders squared on his way to kill the man who was once his best friend.

He only truly came back to himself, the world sharpening its edges around him and the noises becoming clearer, louder, the single shot nearly ripping through his eardrums, when Daphne broke through between the seconds, riding right into the line of fire, her blue coat flying behind her like a piece of summer sky. 

The horse broke out, Daphne slipped out of the saddle and fell onto the dusty ground, staying there motionless.

_Oh god._

Not her as well. 

Both Anthony and Simon, for once united in their worry for Daphne, reached her first, so Benedict gingerly picked up Anthony’s discarded pistol. A movement at the edge of his field of vision revealed Colin, panting and pale, who traded a fearful look with his older brother.

“I’m perfectly well, no thanks to you idiots.”

“What the hell do you think you’re playing at?!”

“Says the man who just shot at me!”

“You just rode into the middle of DUEL!”

Well. So much for his sister being unable to sort out matters on her own. Benedict could barely prevent Anthony jumping at either Daphne or Simon, but probably both, desperately trying to deescalate this ridiculous situation somewhat.

Daphne's and Simon's talk seemed serious, hurtful even, but Benedict had confidence in his sister, confidence, he realized, he did not hold in respect to his brother. Not at that moment, at least, because the stifling numbness that had weighed down his limbs, his heart, his brain, had turned into a fury, simmering behind his ribcage, as Daphne rode between the two morons and shook the clouds out of Benedict’s head.

He clutched the pistol in his hand, letting go of it only with a sharp pull from Anthony when he pushed the Duke to resume the duel.

Once again, it was their sister, their strong, courageous, selfless sister, who resolved the matter.

“There shall be no need to resume. The Duke and I are to be married.”

The procedure and the following ride home were, most unusual, quiet. They all gathered their things; Mondrich put the Duke’s pistol back into the case, Benedict shut it with definitive click, and they shared a look that was not exactly happy, but most certainly relieved.

Anthony shared a few brief and still hostile parting words with Simon before he mounted his horse and commanded his three younger siblings to follow him back home and make haste doing it.

At Bridgerton House they snuck Daphne inside through the servant’s entrance, Colin following soon after to wash up, change and have a bite or ten for breakfast before calling on Marina Thompson, what left Anthony and Benedict to care for the horses in the stables.

Benedict was not sure where to start, or how. There were so many words flying around in his head and quite few of them were only the slightest bit benevolent and instead words that needed to be violently hurled at another person. To pick one out to start with seemed impossible.

Luckily, his big brother helped him out.

Anthony had barely rubbed his and Colin’s horses off with straw, their saddlery was still hanging outside, when he searchingly patted himself down, obviously looking for his pocket watch.

Benedict briefly considered hurling the watch at Anthony first, but ultimately, he was not that cruel.

“Looking for something?”, he asked in an almost nonchalant way. But truly anyone could have picked out the tense undercurrent in his tone.

“I- Benedict.”

For once Anthony looked like he exactly knew where he made a mistake.

“Take it. I don’t want to see that damned thing ever again”, he did throw the watch, but just so he knew Anthony would be able to catch it.

“Ben, I understand-“

“Oh, I don’t think you do”, Benedict did not let himself be placated by the use of an old nickname. “If you did you wouldn’t have gone for a gun before talking to anyone else. You wouldn’t have risked your life and the happiness of this family so flippantly, just accepting that we’d be without you in the end. You wouldn’t have raised the possibility of Gregory and Hyacinth going through the very same we did.”

“I’m not their-“

Benedict scoffed. “You are. What was the phrase- In every way that matters?”

Anthony looked at him, pained. Benedict looked away, not yet ready to let go of his anger. He still felt rattled, the heavy feeling in his stomach had yet to dissipate.

“What was your plan? Where would you have gone? Away with that opera singer of yours?”

“How- You weren’t supposed to know, nobody was”, Anthony choked out.

“Oh, come on, I’m not blind and you are not exactly subtle. I-“, Benedict sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was tired and drained and now that he thought about his brother’s mistress again after having visited Granville’s soiree, well, it all changed perspective. “I know it must be hard, to entertain a relationship like that, one that has no road to go anywhere; to be a Viscount, a brother and the head of a family such as ours. To- to deal with Mother. But you have to know that all that does not rest on your shoulders alone. Colin and I- Well, I am ready to help out anytime. Even if you want me to surrender myself to Mother.”

“But I am the head of this family, those things are my responsibilities, and they were entrusted to me.”

Of course, Anthony chose to remain stubborn. To get through a skull as thick as his one needed a mallet or something alike.

“They were piled onto an eighteen-year-old in the span of a few hours without him being ready for any of it. And he’s been doing a good job managing it all. But getting his first sister through her first season and finding her a suitable husband might be a tad too much.”

Anthony groaned and raked his fingers through his already messy hair. After all, Benedict took pity, stepped out of the box and pulled his brother down to sit beside him on some straw that had spilled over the ground.

“I’m trying!”, he moaned, “But whatever I do, it always turns out to be the exact wrong thing.”

“I suppose that’s how things are with sisters and mothers. But you’ve got Daphne settled now.”

“And I only had to almost kill a man to manage it”, Anthony deadpanned. “What an omen.”

“I think they’ll be alright, they seemed to like each other well enough at the balls and while promenading.”

“Hm”, quite the non-committal hum. “And you know that because you have so much experience with marriage?”

Benedict felt heat creep into his cheeks. “Yeah, no, of course, I just – I just have a feeling, you know?”

Anthony hummed again, then asked: “Do you.. want to marry?”

“No. Not yet at least. Do you?”

“No.”

“Mhh.”

They sat in silence for a while, listened to the noises coming from the house where Cook and the maids prepared breakfast.

“You can ask for help, Anthony, whenever you feel like you need it”, Benedict was quite sure he would not been brave enough to actually say it hadn’t he been so tired and hadn’t felt the moment like it had been plucked out of time.

Anthony turned his head and looked at him. Benedict could not comprehend how exhausted he looked, with the stubble growing in and the dark shadows under his eyes that never seemed to go away anymore.

“With anything, really. I’ll even wrangle Eloise at the balls next season.”

Anthony huffed out a laugh that quickly turned into another groan when he thought about what a feat it would be procure some male that was agreeable to his second sister next year.

“I appreciate it.”

“Of course. It’s not like I have any other pressing duties to attend to”, Anthony fixed him with an odd look when Benedict had uttered the words. Then, like reflex, his hand travelled to his pocket and pulled out the watch.

“Go, I’ll clean up here. You have a special marriage license to acquire after all. And do try not to pull a knife on Hastings. I shall prefer my new brother-in-law unmutilated.”

“Of course”, he put the watch away again and his hand landed on Benedict’s shoulder again. But unlike before, it didn’t make Benedict’s stomach turn but instead brought comfort.

“Thank you, Benedict, for everything you’ve done today.”

“Just- Just don’t do it again, alright?”

Anthony smiled and bowed his head before he stood and brushed the straw off his breeches.

“We shall see about that”, he quipped, “I have three other sisters after all, two of which like to test the rules of society left and right. It will certainly be an exciting time. Have a good day, brother.”

He left the stables with long, purposeful strides and Benedict let his head fall back against the wood of the box behind him. 

An exciting time indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> There's a lot of thinking and presuming about the relationships the brothers have with each other in this. I feel like especially Anthony and Colin are not as close because they didn't spend as much time with each when Colin entered society (insert Anthony's comment about the brothels). Benedict is probably a bit closer to each of them, since he knew Edmund the longest after Anthony (and they often stand together at outings when Anthony is not busy scaring off potential suitors), but has fully remained in his position as son and brother and probably did more to show Colin the ropes.  
> But that's only musing, let me know what you think!


End file.
